Pretending
by AllItTakes
Summary: Because pretending is so much easier.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you happy, Kate?"

Well, _that's_ a loaded question. Certainly something a therapist would ask. Damn him. Damn the good doctor for being allowed to ask her such heavy questions and expecting her to answer them.

She looks down at her lap, breaking eye contact, and traces patterns on the grey, nondescript rug with the toe of her boots.

"Well?" Dr. Burke prompts.

She finally looks up, her face etched with uncertainty and doubt. "I should be. I should be happy. I mean, I've got a good job, good friends, a good family but…"

"There's something missing." Burke supplies, gazing at her with thoughtful eyes.

"Yeah, there is." Kate says quietly. Back to the rug.

"Does this missing piece have anything to do with Richard Castle?"

She huffs. Is she that easy to read?

She hasn't seen Castle in weeks now, not after he started shadowing Slaughter. Ethan Slaughter was a good cop, she tried to convince herself. He was smart, dedicated, and, most of all, _real_. But he had no compassion for the victims and their families, something that showed in the way cold, brusque way he treated them. That was why she would never like him. And that was why she still couldn't believe that Castle had decided to run off with the likes of him.

"Kate?" Burke's voice brings her back to the present. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she answered automatically.

"So this has nothing to do Castle?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't need to.

Burke leans forward, his legs crossed and his arms propping up his head. "Answer me this: Are you in love with Castle?"

She jumps. Since when did Burke become so direct? She straightens her back and stares right at him. "Loving Castle? That would be unprofessional. And completely ludicrous."

"That's not a denial I'm hearing…"

"Castle is an immature twelve year old who – who has absolutely no sense of responsibility or protocol," she sputters.

"Still not a denial…"

"He – he's -"

Burke knits his brows. "He's what, Kate? Loyal? Caring? Good for you? From what you've told me about him, he's all of the above."

She falls silent. He's right. She buries her head in her hands, digging her palms into her eye sockets. _How_ had this happened? It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with him.

But she had. Somewhere in between the coffee runs and undercover ops, the conspiracy theories and late nights, the flirty looks and lingering touches, she had fallen completely head over heels in love with him with no way out.

But now it was too late.

She shouldn't have allowed herself to get so close to him. Didn't she know firsthand that people tended to leave her, no matter how well they got along? She groaned. _How_ had her life gotten so complicated?

Burke cleared his throat, seeing that she was on the edge of a breakdown. "Let's try a different tactic. How many people do you really trust in the world?"

"Uh, I don't know, maybe ten people?"

He gave her a look.

"All right, maybe six?"

"Okay, and out of those trustworthy six, how high does Castle rank?"

"He's the first one," she rasps out. She falls silent, not trusting her voice.

Burke nods, pleased. "Still? Even though he's left you for Slaughter?"

She clears her throat. Therapy shouldn't be this... soul baring. "Yeah. Even now."

"Good. That's good progress. Now we're gonna do something else. I'm going to say a word, and you tell me the first thing that pops up in your head."

Okay, sounds easy enough. She nodded.

"New York?"

"Skyscrapers."

"Christmas?"

"Snow."

"Hunger?"

"Africa."

"NYPD?"

"Badge."

"Horse?"

"Cowboy."

"Mother?"

She faltered on this one. "Death."

Burke gazed at her steadily. "Castle?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes. Couldn't. "Um, partner."

Her therapist's eyebrows went up to his hairline. "Now, Kate, I thought we've agreed to an honesty policy with each other. What went really through your mind when I said 'Castle'?"

The word burned its way up her throat and tumbled out on its own accord, smooth and unforgiving and rough on the edges. "Love. I thought of love."

Burke smiled. "That's good, Kate. Very nice. Do you miss him?"

That was the understatement of the century. She nodded, not trusting her voice. She did. She missed him so much; his absence was a physical wound, a dull throbbing in her chest or a knot in her stomach. She can't remember the exact moment when she realized Castle didn't want her anymore but she can remember the loss of love aching like a phantom limb.

"I do," she cleared her throat. "I do miss him."

It got especially bad at night, after she woke up drenched in sweat and shaking with chills, tempted to call him and hear his voice. But she never did, always catching herself beforehand.

"Kate, how about –"

A quick series of beeps interrupted him. Groaning, she pulled out her phone and read the text. _DOA on Central and 3rd. _

"I'm sorry, Dr. Burke. Duty calls," she apologized, a tiny part of her relieved to end this discussion about Castle.

"Of course. I'll see you next week, Kate." He nodded in goodbye.

She exited the office and came out on the street, blinking from the beaming, bright sunlight that was going to set in less than an hour. Cotton ball clouds hung on the edges, drifting. Like her feelings right now.

It took her less than ten minutes to arrive at the crime scene. The cacophony of yellow tape and flashing sirens made it easy to spot. It was just past five o'clock, a time when most people were finishing up with work while hers was just starting.

She took a deep breath, business-like. She was not going to cry over Castle at a crime scene. These families deserved the truth and she be damned if she couldn't give it to them.

Ducking under the tape, she called out to Lanie. "What've we got?"

* * *

Reviews make my day. No, they make my _week._


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much to all the people who reviewed, favorited, or alerted. It means the world to me.

The bottle should be moving. It had to be moving.

Because the only reason why his brain would thinking about a certain detective would be if he was flat-out drunk, which is the only rational excuse. But he's not. So why is he thinking about Kate when he had banned her from his mind?

He takes a swig from the shot glass next to him. But he wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd like to be, only a light buzz tingled in his head, not the stifling blanket of unawareness he preferred.

He sighed and stared at his laptop screen, the eerie glow washing over his features. He was supposed to be working on a new chapter, due by the end of the week. Gina had threatened to castrate him if he didn't make the deadline. But he was so tired of pretending.

His fingers hovered over the keys. He was tempted to just end Nikki and Rook forever. So, so tempted. But he didn't. Because he, fool, still had a tiny bit of hope in her. In them.

It's been two days since he'd left Slaughter. Not because the guy had been uncooperative but because Castle hadn't left behind nagging feeling that he shouldn't be here. He should be with another detective. Not this callous man who had great stories but didn't seem to give a damn about the victims. Not like Kate.

He longed for her even though he knew she would break his heart. Like the way an alcoholic longed for a beer. It was times like these that his mind strayed to unforgiving territory, how his mind effortlessly painted her image, evoked her scent, conjured up every expression that had ever passed her face with perfect recall.

Like how she smile when he brought her coffee every morning.

How she seemed to know what he was thinking a second before he thought it.

How vulnerable she seemed at Montgomery's funeral.

How her face lit up like sparklers when they cracked a case.

How she hated anchovies on her pizza but loved pineapple.

How she could beat the pants off of him in a poker game.

How she pretended she loved him back.

* * *

"We got a hit on fingerprints," Esposito told her as she walked to her desk. He and Ryan were staring into Gate's office in a very noticeable way. "Vic's name is Carl Morales."

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Beckett sat down on her desk and tried not to glance at the empty seat next to her. She had just come back from talking to Lanie who had confirmed that cause of death was a .45 to the forehead, execution style. Lanie had put time of death as 8 to 10 pm last night. Lanie had also thrown around a few not-so-subtle inquires about a certain writer, which had not helped her growing headache a bit.

"Guy's famous for drug cartels and gambling problems. Vice wanted his head on stake a few years now."

"Did you run financials on Morales?"

"I'll do that now." But instead of hurrying to his desk and picking up the phone, he and Ryan continued sneaking glances into the captain's office.

She looked up and noticed a middle-aged man dressed in a suit talking to Gates. Their captain was playing nice to the man, plastering on fake smiles and using exaggerated hand gestures. "Who's the suit?"

Ryan crossed his arms. "Internal Affairs. Apparently, it's time for our annual evals."

Beckett grimaced. Just what she needed, an IA puppet breathing down her neck while reporting everything to Gates. "Great."

"Tell me about it." Esposito stood up and began walking over to his desk. "I'll run financials now."

"Morale's family is waiting for you." Ryan added. She nodded and headed over.

Twenty minutes and an absolutely unhelpful interview later, she closed the door behind her and headed straight for the espresso machine. Her headache was growing worse but she needed to be awake. An espresso would work. No, double espresso. Extra, extra dark.

"Excuse me, Detective Beckett?" She turned to see the same suited man from Gate's office smiling at her.

"I'm Agent Doxom from the IA. I'm here to evaluate your team's performance."

She stuck out a hand. She hated the IA but she might as well be civil if her job was on the line. "I'm Detective Beckett. Nice to meet you." She'd never heard of an Agent Doxom before; he must be new.

"Nice to meet you too, Detective. Now where can I find the rest of your team?"

"They should be at their desks." She watched as the heavenly dark liquid dripped into her cup.

"And how about the civilian consultant, Mr. Castle?"

She winced. It was an innocent question, completely protocol, but it was like a dagger to her heart, twisting deeper. "I'm…I'm afraid he left the precinct. But I'm can give you his number if you would like to talk to him."

"It's all right, detective." She received another brilliant smile. "I'm sure I can manage."

Kate took a sip of her coffee. Over the horizon of the cup, she watched as Doxom introduced himself to Ryan and Esposito. She grinned when she saw those two straighten up and put down their papers and files as if they had been genuinely been working.

She walked out of the break room. "Ryan, Espo. Get a warrant for Morale's office. Get his phone records too."

Ryan dived for the phone, casting a wary glance at Doxom's backside. "You got it."

"The phone records should be here in the morning," Esposito called out. "You goin' home, girl?"

"Yep. Been a long day." She pulled on her jacket, flipping out her hair from the collar. Normally, she would stay longer – try to fill in the blank spots in the timeline and do background checks on anyone Morales had been in contact with over the past six months – but Gates had been adamant that she try to go home in a reasonable hour or she would have maintenance kick her out. And it was already past 8.

"See you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder.

"Later," her two boys chorused.

* * *

I need ideas on what Castle and Beckett could get up to! I'm looking forward to what you guys think.


	3. Chapter 3

"This isn't gonna work. Absolutely not." Castle had flatly stated. But his words fell on deaf ears as a whole troupe of his mother's acting friends paraded into his exclusive loft with Martha herself leading the entourage.

"Relax, dear. It's only for a few hours." Martha patted his arm reassuringly but it did nothing to tamp down his rising anger.

"What happened to a 'small get-together'? There must be at least fifty people here!" he sputtered.

"Well, it started out that way. But word gets around…" she waved her hand casually while turning to smile charmingly at her guests in complete diva fashion.

Castle stared at the mob of people invading into his home. They were shouting, dancing, and popping open wine bottles then someone had the brilliant idea of connecting their ipod to his state of the art, surround sound system to blast music through the walls. Yeah, let's _really_ piss off the neighbors.

"Where's Alexis?" he asked, hoping that mention of her granddaughter would make her see what an absolute mess this get-together was.

"At Paige's house. She won't be back till tomorrow morning." Translation: this party will last all day and well throughout the night. Martha gave him one last brilliant smile then turned around to beckon at a silver haired fox. "Edward, why don't you…"

Sighing with defeat, he had retreated to his office, hoping to get back to his writing. No such luck. The noise was absolutely deafening. He ran a hand over his tired face. He hadn't slept well last night and it was beginning to show.

A sudden _thunk_ jerked him out of his seat and pried open the office door to be greeted by the sight of his favorite lamp – the one with the jungle green shade and zoo animals decorating the base – smashed to pieces on the floor.

"Sorry, dear!" Martha gave him a smile that he didn't return.

Groaning, he packed up his laptop and left the house fast, forgetting his jacket. No matter. His blue button down was bit rumpled and his jeans were faded but that was okay. It's not like he was headed to a debutante ball.

He was walking toward the café across the street, where he could concentrate on his writing in peace. The red painted door jingled as he entered. Grabbing a seat was easy since it wasn't even lunchtime.

Sighing at his mother's antics once more, he opened his laptop and got to work.

* * *

"Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Holland." Kate opened the door of the interrogation room and sat down. The man in question was easily 6'5' and 250 pounds, bulked up like the Hulk.

"Wanna tell me why you resisted arrested?" She asked wryly. It had taken six officers to bring down Holland but he had still managed to throw a couple right hooks at Ryan and Esposito, resulting in an assaulting an officer charge.

Holland shrugged. "You're a cop. I'm a criminal. I see a cop, I run."

She raised a skeptic eyebrow. "You weren't even sure what you were being brought in for, but you still ran?"

"What can I say, being a criminal's in my blood."

"Nice excuse," she said dryly. "Now tell me, do you know a Carl Morales? You two were business partners."

"Carl? 'Course I remember him!" he frowned. "What did that bastard do now?"

"He's dead."

Normally, this would be the time where the person's blood would drain out of his face, or they would start crying or shake with grief or _something_. But Holland broke out into a face-splitting smile and started laughing, slapping his knee in enthusiasm.

"You just made my day, detective. No, my year." Softly, off to the side, "Man, he was right."

"Glad we could help." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes skyward. "Now why are you so happy?"

Holland leaned forward, his eyes darkening beneath heavy brows. "'Cause that man was secretive, that's why. Even when we were doing business together, he wouldn't tell me a single damn thing. Of course, that's what makes his death even more surprising."

Frowning slightly, she inquired, "Can you elaborate on that?"

"Couple months ago, Morales contacted me again. Out of the blue. He tells me that he thinks he's gonna get killed. Damn, that dude was right."

"What made Morales think he was gonna get murdered?"

She received an eye roll in response. "Does it look like I asked questions? I told the bastard to never call me again and I hung up. That's all."

She clasped her hands on the table and looked at him straight in the eye. "Where were you from 8 to 10 last night?"

"I was at a bar. Park and 32nd. You can check it out for yourself." He scoffed.

"I will." She stood up. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Holland."

After filling in Ryan and Esposito, she headed back to the murder board. Her two boys had shiners blooming on their skin, courtesy of Holland, but instead of begging Gates to make sure that Holland got the full sentence for assaulting an officer, they comparing their battle wounds.

"This one's a beast," Esposito had murmured, gazing at the purple mountain on his jaw.

"How about this one?" Ryan pointed to a bluish target on the edge of his cheek.

She'd rolled her eyes. Boys.

She was reviewing the witness statements, trying to look for inconsistencies for everyone saw the same thing: nothing. Maybe something useful in the financials? Nope. Phone records? Nada.

"Yo, Beckett!" Esposito called over.

"Hmm?" Her head was still ducked over a list of Morale's business affairs.

"Did you have lunch yet?"

Lunch? It was lunchtime? She checked her watch. 1:40. Way past lunchtime. "Uh, no. I need to finish going over this. I'll probably have a granola bar or something."

Ryan perched on the edge of her desk. "Come on, Beckett. When was the last time you ate something?"

She frowned, trying to remember. "Yesterday, I think?"

Ryan all but shoved her out the door. "Go get lunch. We can do this while you're gone. Javi and I already had our lunch break." Ah, that would account for their hour and half absence.

Her stomach betrayed her by giving a faint rumble. "Alright, alright. I'm going."

"Good girl."


	4. Chapter 4

"Detective Beckett!"

She turned around at the sound of her name to see Agent Duxom hurrying towards her, panting in his haste. "Detective Beckett, can I have a minute?"

Immediately she assumed the worst. "Is this about my team? The department?"

"No, no. In fact, your team is one of the best I've seen in years." Duxom gave her a half-grin, looking nervous. "Actually, I wanted to see if you wanted to go on a date with me."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had not expected this but this explained his nervous behavior around her. "I'm flattered, Agent Duxom – "

"Please, call me by my first name, Ralph."

"Ralph, then." The name sounded awkward on her tongue. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. She wasn't good at this. "I'm sorry, Ralph, but no."

He ducked his head, looking like a kicked puppy. "It's okay. I figured it was worth a shot."

"But, really. I'm flattered that you think of me that way." Kate said quickly.

"It's okay, detective. I'm not a sore loser." He gave her another half-smile tinged with remorse. "Someday, you're going to make some man very happy. I'm sorry it wasn't me."

She watched, speechless by his prediction, as he smiled at her in goodbye and strode off into the street.

Rosie's was what Starbucks should be. Funky, electric, and pulsing with ingenuity, it also served a pretty decent coffee. That and the fact that it was only three blocks from the precinct made her a regular here.

She made her way up to the counter, smiling at the girl. "Hey, Lisa. Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla."

"You got it, detective."

She stood off to the side and watched as the girl expertly whipped up her order. She paid and looked for a seat. She'll order a sandwich later. Right now, her caffeine-addicted self needed that ambrosia liquid.

She scanned the room for an empty seat. The lunch rush was hitting it hard, every seat was filled. The only available spot she saw was opposite a man wearing a blue button down who was ducking his head over a sheaf of notes.

Shyly she approached the man. "Hi, can I sit…"

Her words evaporated as the man looked up with bright blue eyes. Familiar bright blue eyes.

The air suddenly evaporated from her lungs. She drew in a quick breath. "Castle…"

What was he doing here? Then she spied the laptop and bundles of outlines and notes. Of course. He was working on his book. Her mind was buzzing, suddenly acutely aware of the way he was staring at her, blankly, his face wiped clean of all emotion. She, the woman who could always tell what he was thinking with a swift glance, was suddenly struggling to read the simplest emotion on his face. Was he happy to see her? Probably not. He had, after all, left her for three months.

She missed him. She missed having someone by her side, a shoulder to cry on, a smile to laugh with, an arm to lean on. It wasn't a weakness to want someone, to need someone. It was a strength.

Why had it taken her so long to figure that out?

Castle seemed to be struggling to find the right words. A best-selling novelist struggling for words. Irony. "Kate…"

And just that one word rounding on the tip of his tongue brought back a wealth of memories for her.

Like how he always knew the exact moment to bring her a coffee.

How he could always crack out a smile out of her, even on her bad days.

How he touched her, even just a slight brush on her arm, as if she was spun sugar.

How his go-to theory always involved how CIA conspiracies and alien abductions.

How he kept score – _score!_ – of how many times he had saved her life.

How he was such a good father to Alexis.

How his nose scrunched up if you poked him while he's sleeping.

How much he loved her. No, scratch that, how much he _used _to love her.

Castle cleared his throat, bringing her out of her spell. "Sure, you can sit here, I mean, if you still want to… need some place to drink that coffee, right?…"

A quick smile flitted across her lips before she sat down and brought the steaming cup to her lips. Castle was nervous. He may have acted cold and distant but he was nervous. Nervous! Which meant he still cared for her, now matter how much like an asshole he was acting. Which meant she still had a chance. "Thanks."

"No problem."

She took another sip, glancing at him over the horizon of the rim. He hasn't changed much in the three months they've been apart. His hair was still the same with that same strand falling into his eyes. His chin was covered with light stubble – he hasn't shaved yet. His eyes were still the same. An ocean you could drown in. His blue button down was wrinkled and jeans rumpled but it brought to mind overstuffed words like _comfy _and _relaxed._

"So how've you been?" If she was going to sit here and drink coffee across the man she'd known for three years, she might as well make small talk.

"Good. You?"

"Fine."

Silence.

When did this become so hard? This was coming from the two people who could banter for hours; who knew each other so well, they finished each other's thoughts; who spoke in subtext and flits of the eye; who had been _partners_ for three years – partners who meant something to each other.

"How're the boys?"

"Good." Kate bobbed her head, clutching her coffee cup. "How's Alexis and Martha?"

"Good."

Back to one-word answers.

Questions bobbed to the tip of her tongue, questions she's been dying to ask. _Has Alexis gotten into Stanford? How's Martha's acting school coming along? How are you, _really_? What did I do wrong? _

She chose the safest question. "How's Slaughter doing?"

Castle ducked his head and avoided her eyes. "I wouldn't know. I left him a week ago."

"Oh. Well, when do you think you're coming back?"

He doesn't answer, only looks away, a flash of guilt passing across his features. Realization dawns on her. "You were never planning on coming back, were you?"

His silence is the answer.

Heat flames in her cheek and she narrows her eye dangerously, suddenly angry. "You know, Castle, I don't know why you've suddenly turned a new leaf like this but you could've at least told us you weren't coming back instead of giving us the silent treatment."

She takes a breath and continues in a more subdued voice, "You may hate me but Ryan and Esposito both deserve better."

This hits the mark. Castle grips his notes more tightly, crinkling them and almost ripping them, and gives her the barest hint of a nod. "I know," he says softly. "But I'm not going back."

The heat slowly dissipates from her face to be replaced with an ice cold fury. She's angry, goddamnit. She spits out the words like they were corrosive on her tongue. "Screw you."

Castle's head snaps up like a vise with the same vehemence in his eyes, pronouncing each syllable with barely restrained anger. "How can you be mad at _me _when I wasn't the one who _lied_?"

There. It's out. Kate's suddenly breathless with the awareness of the issue at hand. He's been distant and cold and heartbreaking because he found out she lied that she hadn't heard him on that fateful day in the cemetery. He's mad because she's been lying her ass off for the last several months. He's livid because she treated his love for her like it was a passing remark and nothing more. But she had her reasons.

A few minutes pass, then, "Do you know that deathbed confessions go both ways? When someone says something like that, it can either help a person and speed up their recovery… or it turns out that they just said it to keep that person from dying and that they didn't mean a single word."

She stares into her untouched coffee and keeps her voice neutral. "I was afraid it would be the second." She doesn't add that she still thinks it was the latter. He probably got tired of waiting, she thinks. He doesn't love her anymore.

She doesn't have enough audacity in her to look up and read Castle's face. Hearing his voice filled with blame at her is bad enough. Seeing his face will cripple her.

Say something, she begs silently. Say something that'll convince me that you still care for me, worry about me, love me. But he doesn't say anything. Only watches her with quiet, thoughtful eyes that were furious at her only a moment before. It's killing her.

She can't take it anymore. Can't stand the suffocating silence that stretches endlessly before them. Getting up and gathering her coat takes a Herculean effort but she does it, stands up so that the back of her knees push back her chair. Castle starts, reaches out a hand. "Kate, wait."

"You know what, Castle. I'm done." She grabs her coat and her now cold coffee, pausing before she leaves the table. "And for the record, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself because I've managed to fall in love with you and I have to figure out how to let that go." And because she has to, "Have a nice life, Castle."

He bolts up and knocks his chair to the floor. "Kate, wait!" But she's already out the door.

He chases her down the street, pushes past the throngs of pedestrians until he reaches out and touches her wrist. "Kate, please."

She closes her eyes, for a moment that hoping that this is some dream and that her alarm clock will go off at any moment. She opens her eyes. Nothing. She whirls around and bites, "What, Castle? I'm not – "

His mouth settles over hers and she's suddenly incapable of talking. His kiss is soft and sweet and tastes like a little bit of an apology. She hesitates. For half a second before she's kissing back, slipping her tongue past the seam of his lips, taking it from shy and timid to fierce and full. He presses himself so close that any hurt left between them becomes a binding instead of a boundary, that any tears that have once been shed between them becomes a glue.

When they finally break apart, her lips are kiss swollen and hair disheveled and her eyes are luminous. Their foreheads are tipped together.

"I didn't think you still loved me," she whispers.

Castle leans in for another kiss. "I never stopped."

* * *

Done! End of story. I never meant for this to be a long fic so thank you for reading. Tell me if you guys want me to do an epilogue thing :)


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